


Destiny’s Dark Love

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Father/Son Incest, M/M, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26201599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Luke has joined Vader in Palpatine’s Royal Court and is feverish in his sexual cravings for his father. Vader toys with him—to a point. Explicit father/son incest sex. Read no further if you don’t like this—you are warned!
Relationships: Luke Skywalker/Darth Vader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 73





	Destiny’s Dark Love

**I: Luke's Return**

Luke ran through the reception area of the Imperial ballroom with such speed that the color guard could only turn their heads as he whipped past. He barreled past uniformed officers and pushed gowned ladies out of his way. His target was easy enough to spot in the crowd and he shouldered his way across the dance floor, then mounted the steps to where the Dark Lord stood.

Vader was aware of some stirring in the crowd behind him; he had half-turned in response to the surprise he saw on people's faces before him. Luke's charge knocked him sideways but not down. Only they heard the soft grunt from the ebony breathmask as they staggered together. Vader instinctively reached out with the Force to protect himself and he also stretched out his left hand to grasp his son's slender throat.

"You bastard!" the boy hissed. "You bloody bastard, you knew, you knew --- ", and then he could speak no more. Luke continued fighting though, one hand clanging uselessly against Vader's black armor. The Dark Lord's temper flared and he released Luke's throat.

"You dare!" he bellowed in anger. His backhand slap caught Luke across the eye and his vision blurred with tears and blood mixed. The force of the Sith Lord's slap sent him reeling against the wall and he knocked over a decorative table covered with flowers and candles. Hot wax spilled on his cheeks, burning him, then flower petals fell, gracing him. "It's raining flowers" he thought for a second, before he stopped thinking at all and everything went black.

The Imperial ballroom had fallen silent at the outrageous display. Guests backed away as Vader picked up his attacker with one hand. Vader shook him roughly and when he saw that Luke was conscious, he turned and strode into an anteroom at the side of the grand ballroom. Vader slammed the door behind hard enough to drop pictures from the walls.

The Dark Lord threw him down the rectangular table in the center of the room. Drops of Luke's blood smeared its polished surface. The boy gagged and coughed as he tried to get his breath back. Vader began to stalk around the burnished wood, circling like the remshas of the Alderaan seas- and just as dangerous. Luke counted three circuits before the Sith Lord spoke.

"Consider yourself lucky I didn't simply kill you out there. It is unwise to attack a Force-user in that way; a mere defensive thrust might have damaged you." His deep voice pierced the bloody fog in his son's brain. "However, the Empire and I have invested a great deal of time and effort in your recruitment and training. It would be difficult to explain the waste of such a resource." Vader stopped to wrench the slight young man down to the end of the table by his booted foot. Luke groaned at the harsh touch. Vader's broad bulk loomed over him with Dark menace.

"You knew..." Luke began and then the tears started again and he couldn't speak. His anguish and sense of betrayal were all he could focus on. He didn't notice the Dark Lord's fists clench with annoyance. "I could have been killed!"

"You little idiot! Do you think I would have allowed that?" Vader began circling the table again. "Luke, all new operatives are deliberately given that kind of mission. It's a final exam, in a sense. If you return, then we can be confident in your abilities. If you don't, then we didn't need you in the first place." Luke's anger blossomed at the incredible words. Vader sensed the boy's ire and he watched his boy struggle to maintain a reasonable facade.

"The two others didn't come back," his voice snapped. Vader grew irritated at the insolence; this boy needed a lesson in proper deportment with a Dark Lord. He picked up the pitcher of ice water on a sideboard and threw it- glass pitcher, ice, water- into Luke's face. The blonde young man flinched in shock as the pitcher broke open his lip and the frosty water spilled down his flightsuit.

Luke straightened his shoulders and brushed away the liquids on his face. Vader handed him a napkin. "Clean yourself, you look wretched." He was tempted to wipe Luke's face himself but he held back. Not yet, keep him guessing, he told himself.

Vader finally stood still before him, the blinking lights on his chest plate just in front of his blue eyes. The import of what he had just done began to filter through the grogginess in his brain and now he looked up at his father- Sith Lord, Dark Master, Life Itself - with chagrin and embarrassment.

"Father, I do apologize sincerely for my actions just now. It was inexcusable." Luke's fair skin was blotched and he flushed pinker under the scrutiny of the black mask above him. With a gentle Force touch the Dark Lord could sense the younger man's vulnerability, a delicious combination of fear, respect and ... Luke's eyes glowed now. It was a gaze the Sith Lord recognized.

It was desire.

Inside his safe mask, Vader's eyebrows raised. So the boy was vulnerable, no- woundable there, too. Another opportunity to bring the boy completely to the Dark Side presented itself. Vader knew from experience how closely the desires for violence and sexuality were linked; limbic centers nestled closely together in a human's brain, the merest twitch of a crucial synapses and desire rose from anger, fear and aggression.

The Dark Lord took a half step closer to the table.

The movement placed him between Luke's slender legs. He gazed up at the black-clad warrior who stepped deliberately closer and pressed his thighs apart. Vader pulled Luke's hips to the edge of the table. Luke's belly grew warm as the sweet, dark craving eased lower. Vader tugged the boy against his black armor and Luke gasped at the feel of the warrior.

His gloved hands circled the boy's waist. He used his thumbs to stroke up Luke's belly, then back down again. The warm pleasantness in Luke instantly turned to fiery passion. When Vader stopped, Luke could hear himself breathing hard, much louder than the Sith Lord's respirator. Vader pulled his hands away and Luke shivered in disappointment.

"Your commanding officer will debrief you in the morning about your mission. By then, I will have determined a suitable- punishment for your attack on a superior officer." The boy's face squirmed while he wrestled for control over his shame, desire and embarrassment. Vader pushed him backwards on the table and then leaned over him, just inches away from the wet flightsuit, the boy's wet face, his open mouth. If he were able, he would have licked the sweat and water from Luke's trembling throat. For sweet seconds he hovered above the boy on the table, savoring the rush of sensations and emotions the boy emitted. He stood again.

"Perhaps making you wait for me will be punishment enough." Luke's sense were so heightened he could actually hear the soft whisper of velveteen cape on the carpeted floor.

The Dark One was gone. 

**II: Fever**

He was running a fever. Day and night, he burned endlessly. His heat was physical, though not a symptom of illness.

Unless lust for his father could be called an illness.

Luke laughed harshly- silently, because laughter of his sort was infrequent in the Imperium. Here, in the royal court, laughter had to be light, mocking, meaningless. But the depth of his bitterness marked him as a man whose laughter was lethal. Even his father had banished him, keeping him isolated from the exalted company he should be enjoying. Company who would commend his lust, bathe in it, encourage it.

Someone spoke to him and brushed his arm. He didn't shake free, merely turned a look on the one who would dare touch him so. His martial arts "instructor", chastising him for nearly breaking the neck of his opponent- how dare they think they could instruct him in anything? Son of Vader, a Force master in his own right. His lips curled in an unuttered snarl, and the man backed away.

His body was slick with sweat. It ran in beads down the muscles of his arms, pooled around the waist of the immodest covering the combatants were allowed. Did Vader watch him from an unseen gallery above? He knew there were viewing decks for the Emperor's pleasure. Did Palpatine lust after him? Or was Luke simply another near-naked warrior, whose violent encounters were primarily for the regent's satisfaction?

He tilted his face upward and shot a defiant glare at the reflective glass. My lord father, do you watch, too? Do you want me? Or am I alone in my lust?

He backed off and locked his gaze on the next pair of fighters, but he did not see them. He saw Vader, the black warrior standing between his thighs. Felt Vader's hands on his hips, urging him forward. Felt the solidity under the armor. Smelled the heady mixture of well-worn leather and musk. Closing his eyes, he saw his father leaning over him again, the awesome mask nearly touching his face, his mouth. Knew again the fingers pressing hard lines into his belly. And he wanted-

He shuddered and steeled his mind against the images. His father demanded obedience. He would obey. He would control is body, his mind--

Hot liquid trickled on his lower lips, and he swiped at it, staring blankly as his hand came back bloody? Force, had he no more control than that? Biting his mouth raw, brought nearly to orgasm by the memory of a moment that had lasted longer in his mind than in actuality? He shivered and rubbed his arms. His hands slid off them. Thoughts of Vader raised more sweat on his body than any Force task ever had.

The hell with this.

Luke walked out, ignoring the instructor's angry call. He strode through the corridors, heedless of the amused looks of passing courtiers who were startled by his meager garb. In his quarters, he pressed the door closed behind him and leaned against it, head thrown back.

He was burning. Surely no human could live through such an intense fire. He ripped off the white cloth and threw it aside. Crossed the room to stare at himself in the mirror. The fever burned in his eyes; they glistened and sparked angry flames. he ran both hands down his torso and touched himself with more gentleness than he knew Vader would use. Stumbling back, he fell on the bed, ignoring its softness and imagining the hardness of the table, the highly polished slab cold on his back as his father's leather fingers stroked cool paths down his overheated body. Bit his lip until whimpered in pain, remembered the brutality of the blow... and craved more.

His knees bent, his back arched, his body reacted on its own, without his permission, wanting- no, demanding. Father! Luke raged. Damn you- where are you? 

*****

Darth Vader was in his quarters, pacing the floor, swallowing the length of the room in three long strides. He wondered, briefly, if he would go mad from the wanting. Desire bolstered by the Force... there was no equal sensation in the galaxy. He closed his eyes and leaned against his desk, pushing his groin against it. Give the boy what he wanted - almost. A mind-fuck, nothing more. But a mind-fuck that would leave his throat raw and his desires savage. Fury and lust so closely entwined that he would be never able to separate the two.

Then you will be ready, my son. Behind the mask he smiled. And gave a mental push. The vibration echoed through the palace, and he wondered with dry amusement just how many desires would be satisfied tonight, brought to fruition by Luke's delightful torment.

Soon, he promised both himself and his son. Soon you will be ready.

But... not quite yet. 

Vader concentrated on the warm fullness in his groin and then threw out a random series of sexual images as if rifling through a deck of Sabaac cards. Luke on his knees before him, his mouth full; Vader looming above the boy on the anteroom table, the black leather of his Sithian armor pressed into Luke's wet flightsuit, leaving marks in the pale skin beneath; the boy's silken golden hair splayed on the dark sheets of his bed. He began to Force probe his son's mind, searching for Luke's most private fantasies. He found one that stirred the boy deeply- an image of the black-clad Sith Lord kneeling before his son.

The day I kneel to you will be the day the seven Sith hells freeze over. Still, the image was compelling and multi-hued. Luke had invented, thought, re-thought, subtracted and then added further embellishments with each agonizing repetition. The mental grooves of this one were worn with use and slick with shame, raw lust and near indefinable ecstasy. The Sith Lord smiled and slipped into it.

They were in the Dark Lord's opulent suite or rather, Luke's version of it. Candles burned short flickered over the remnants of their dinner. Luke was standing at the viewport, his senses sharpened with wine, Force and desire. He knew the Dark Lord resting on the divan was watching his slender form.

"Luke," and the boy turned instantly. "Bring me more wine." Vader smiled as he heard the bottle knock against the glass; the boy's hands were trembling. He didn't pour another for himself. Luke stood a step away and offered the glass.

The Dark Lord motioned for Luke to hold the wine glass for him. Luke carefully measured out the sips for his comfort. Vader swallowed the fine vintage, all the while looking up into Luke's blue eyes. When the glass was drained Luke stood there, the prisms from the glass reflecting on the cold floor. His hand was shaking.

"Have you nothing sweeter to drink, my boy?" The Dark Lord's voice was impossibly sultry. Luke's hand convulsed and he dropped the glass. It shattered on the tile beneath them and with it, all of Luke's hesitation. Vader didn't flinch but instead used one languid hand up to tug at the boy's robe sash. It fell to their feet with a silken whisper. Luke trembled anew.

Vader pulled the boy between his broad thighs. Luke's lean belly was smooth, his skin as silky as Alderanian cashmerene. With his left, scarred hand he caressed the boy's chest and belly. He used his right hand to stroke Luke's thighs. The slender penis rose before him, pink with desire. A glisten of liquid appeared at the tip and Vader smiled.

Vader's years of dealing with respirators in his throat served him well now. Without preamble he leaned forward and swallowed the boy whole. Luke's rigid penis was a warm rod of flesh and Vader eased the sensitive tip to the back of his mouth. Luke groaned at the astonishing sweetness of the sensation.

He grasped the boy's buttocks and held him fiercely still. Luke wanted to move his hips and thrust forward but Vader made him stay quiet. He used his strong throat muscles to work the boy's penis from root to tip; Luke groaned with each delicious stroke. He scarcely needed the Force to read the boy---

oh yes, Father, please yes, there, there, yes, please, there, suck me there, please, please please, come me there, Father, there, come me please, please oh Father, Vader, VadeR, VaDER, FATHER!!!

Luke's orgasm shook them both. Vader's own cock hardened and rose as the boy trembled before him. He swallowed the pungent liquid, tasting the salty essence of it- Luke, Luke, oh I taste you boy, Luke that's you on my tongue, you boy--- and then Luke was done and gasping and shaking and collapsing in front of him.

Vader pulled Luke on top of him, wanting him close. The boy mewed with contentment, his now soft penis dangling against Vader's hardened one.

He eased into a squat on Vader's belly- that primal grappling that all mammals used in moments of utter relaxation- legs splayed wide, cheek on chest, one ear pressed to the soothing heartbeat of the other. The Dark Lord stroked the boy's blonde hair and smiled.

The Dark Lord felt Luke's awareness of his Force probe. The boy's aura was a fiery rainbow of emotions; yellowed fear, orange shame, a blue-black anger, all floating on a pool of reddened lust.

"So you think to master me, do you boy?" Vader queried.

"No, my Lord Father. You are the master." Luke's voice was husky and his words came slowly.

"You would do well to remember that, my son." He gave Luke one last mental caress and then was gone.

Around them the palace inhabitant's eased to lustful wakefulness; there would be untold couplings this night as the two Force users' sensitivities spilled out into the ether.

In his small room in the lower level, Luke's thighs shook as he rose from his dampened bed.

And in the Dark Lord's suites above, Vader's legs trembled as he sank gratefully onto his.

**III: The Tempting**

This was the Darkside of the Force. This was what Kenobi and Yoda had warned him about, the awful thing that would destroy his soul and leave him forever haunted.

How ironic that what it brought him was soul-shattering pleasure.

Luke choked back a harsh chuckle, knowing it would only hurt. His throat was raw from the intensity of the screams that had been torn from it. His body ached from the abuse it had taken- abuse that he suspected was mostly mental, but he could no longer find the faint, wavering division between reality and fantasy. Vader made his dreams real, made his life hell, turned his faith into heresy, took everything he'd ever believed in and gave life to that which should have been stillborn.

And Luke Skywalker had leapt into the whirlpool and surrendered himself for the drowning.

"Damn you, Father!" he whispered into the mirror. Vader's eyes looked back at him. In their depths was the knowledge that he would never know peace again. That he didn't want to know it.

Damn you, I love you... and you have no idea. You see the lust that burns my body, the aching need that wants you, wants to be you... and you think that's all there is. Possession as a route to absolution. He smiled fiercely and tugged his uniform collar closed. Brushed invisible lint off the shoulders. Straightened and studied his image closely.

He was perfect. He had to be.

Vader had finally sent for him.

He didn't indulge in the luxury of thinking that they wanted the same thing. How could they, when Luke couldn't be sure what he craved? Or was their only bond a sexual one?

Only... ?

He flushed, uncertain if that mocking question had come from Vader or from himself. It was a deliciously disconcerting feeling. He lifted his chin and raised his left hand to his throat. Stroked across the softness of the flesh and rested two fingers in the hollow of his neck, feeling the pulse-point. It was rapid, had been for days as if he were burning himself out, living too fast, living on the edge of an abyss. And on the other side of the chasm was his father, the gulf between them too wide to be crossed except for a single, wild leap that would either end in union or death.

He shuddered. His fingers trailed lightly across his mouth in a sweet caress. Touch me like this, Father. Afterward. Do what you want- what we both want- then... touch me.

And I will love you forever. I will kill for you, slay dragons for you- blast any planet into oblivion for you...

He was mad. He'd gone completely insane. And Daddy likes you this way...

There was no curse strong enough to shock him back, but he tried several. They gave him a reminder of reality, enough of a crutch to send him into the halls of the palace, towards his father's quarters...

... to do his Master's bidding. 

*****

"Palpatine will be returning soon."

He paced away a step, unable to hold the Dark Lord's gaze. A gloved hand reached out and cupped his chin. Turned his head until it face the Darkness. Reluctantly, eagerly, he lifted his eyes.

"What will this mean to us... my lord?" He caught his breath at his boldness; would Vader punish him for giving them an equality?

"He will sense you," the Dark One said lightly, and Luke heard a hint of amusement in the rich tones.

"But he already knows I am here."

One finger strayed upward and rested on his lower lip, rubbing slowly back and forth.

Are you reading my mind... again? Do you know what I want, what I need?

"Yes. Now he will sense your... desires. He will want you."

The amusement was gone, and he struggled to interpret the nuances hidden in the steady voice. Did Vader mind? Or was he pleased, honored to share his son with the Emperor?

"Will I have a choice?" Luke asked breathlessly.

"Do you want one?" The finger slid from his mouth, brushed his cheek, then the hand lowered. "It could be quite... advantageous... to have him so close."

"Advantageous to which of us?"

"Don't toy with me, boy."

There was no question of interpretation- the words cut, flayed into his spirit like a whip. "I'm sorry, my master. I meant no disrespect."

"Didn't you." It wasn't a question. Unexpectedly, Vader sighed. He moved away toward the wide window. Luke watched the hypnotic sway of the black cloak as it brushed the floor.

"No, sir," he whispered. Troubled feeling traveled through the air, and he flinched. Cautiously, he approached the Dark Lord, daring to rest his hand on the magnificence of the cloak. Warmth pulsed from beneath the fabric. "Father... "

Without warning, a hand snaked around his waist and pulled him between Vader and the window. His breaths faltered, then increased. Involuntarily, Luke closed his eyes and titled his head back. "Father..." he whispered again.

The hand slid lower and cupped his buttocks. Fingers spread across one cheek, thumb rubbing in the crease between them. "Yes, my son?" Vader asked mockingly. "Do you have a request?"

"Please... "

"Please what? Please stop?"

"No, just... " He clenched his fists on the broad shoulder and forced his eyes open. The mask gave away no secrets, shared none of the lust. "Please... " He parted his legs, bent one knee and lifted it. Like an animal in heat, he thought with bitter pleasure.

The caress between his thighs continued, the friction of his clothing rubbing against his flesh a frustrating diversion. In a moment of surrender, he leaned his forehead against his father's chestplate- and the thumb thrust upward, inside him. He gave a surprised cry as his senses were invaded. The heavyweight fabric straining, tearing, the leather, smooth and cold, his body hot and tight. With a ferocious twist of his head, he sunk his teeth into the reinforced padding of his father's arm. A single push against the muscular thigh, and his body shuddered- too soon, too soon- his mind hissed as he gave a shout that tore at the fragile membranes of his throat. He choked on the taste of blood, still shuddering in the aftermath of passion.

Minutes passed before he regained his reason. Both his feet were firmly on the floor, and his father supported him with both hands. Had it been another fantasy, then? But his trousers were struck to him both front and back, and his limbs were shaking. He swiped at the hair plastered against his forehead and looked up. The mask mocked him with his dispassionate expression.

"Will you accept him?"

Disoriented, he stared and blinked. "What? Who?"

"The Emperor," Vader said with a hint of impatience. "Haven't you been paying attention, boy?"

With a burst of fury, Luke jerked free. "You- you- "

The helmet titled questioningly.

He swallowed his instinctive curse. "No, my lord," he finally whispered, the words catching in his throat, "I will not want the Emperor."

Vader turned away and strode to his desk. "Then we must make plans."

Luke gazed after him and remained silent. 

**IV: Afterburn**

His meeting with the Dark Lord finished, Luke had paced his quarters- restless, wanting, edgy. Was that a fantasy, or did it really happen? He felt that he was caught in the grasp of a compelling dream. Or was it a nightmare? Not knowing what was fantasy, what was reality, what Vader wanted...

If he wanted...

"Forget this. I'll go down and spar again." His words echoed in the empty room. He headed down corridor towards the athletic quad.

Three fights later Luke held up one hand to the ringmaster. "I'm done," he said as his thighs trembled beneath his fair skin. Sweat pooled on the mat below him, running down his arms and legs as quickly as tears. After he showered he chose a massage table and an organic masseuse. 

In his suites above Vader sensed Luke was in a tired, sensual daze. He "listened" thoughtfully and ascertained that his son was in the athletic facilities. His aura was a compelling combination of exhaustion, annoyance and physical sensuality. The boy is vulnerable now, even more so than last night. He could remain here and Send to the youngster but... The Sith Lord pondered only moments, then dressed and strode below.

At the view window Vader watched Luke on the massage table. He lay belly down, nude but for a simple drape over his buttocks. The window was coated, designed for clandestine observation of the facilities below, all of them. The fighting rings, workout machines, massage tables, showers... Vader knew that some of the more "interesting" specimens and encounters were copied from the security cameras and shown in a projector room near Supply. Some were re-copied and then sold on the black market.

He had discs of his own.

This night he wouldn't need a disc however. The golden-haired young man was sprawled out, pale skin oiled, being kneaded and stroked under the expert fingers of the Klenian massuesse. Luke sighed with pleasure at the touch.

Vader lowered his shields partly and smiled when Luke jerked as he became aware of his father's presence. The masseuse stopped and asked, "Did I hurt you, sir?"

"No," Luke answered. "Not at all. Please continue." For a moment he was chagrined at the thought of Vader in the view window above him. Why are you here?

There was no response from the Dark Lord.

Luke "listened", puzzled. Vader's aura was his usual one of detachment and neutrality. He merely stood at the railing, observing. Watching, waiting...

What are you waiting for? Why do you torment me like this? Why don't you reach for me? Why--

BE SILENT!

Vader's answer was nearly a roar. In that second of answer, Luke felt the dark, roiling need within his father. The sharp sense of possessiveness the Sith had felt after Bespin was turning, changing into something else. Something more. Luke's damp face eased into a small smile, hidden by his muscular arms.

Let's see how you like being teased, Father of mine. Luke turned to the window and with a mental swipe of the Force, pulled away the mirrored coating on the glass. He saw the armored warrior standing almost at attention, his broad shoulders stiff. The black gloved fingers stroked the metal railing and then stopped as he felt Luke's gaze.

Luke lowered his lashes deliberately. Are you watching me now? Lids closed, he let his mouth drop open. Vader watched the boy's face go slack with pleasure at the easeful strokes on his shoulders. Luke tensed his back muscles and sent a ripple of movement down his body. His buttocks clenched, then relaxed. Above him, the black gloved hands began to stroke the rail again, back and forth, almost gently.

He Sent the question in a husky contralto. Father, are you watching me now?

Luke moved again beneath the masseuses' supple fingers. He spread his legs further apart, until the towel drooped into the cleft between his buttocks. The soft cloth at his cheeks made his wonder what cool leather would feel like in the same place. Luke sent the image to his father above.

Luke pushed further. In the blue haze of his sensuality, he thought of the many fantasies he had had over the years- making love to a girl, of Leia's kiss on the gangway, of benignly passionate nights. Since Bespin, though, his fantasies and curiosities had changed, mutated, taken on a darker hue. The gentle love he had envisioned with Leia had changed into forceful sex with the masked warrior. He imagined dark couplings with Vader with no limits on their imaginations. He was obsessed with the Dark Lord. Obsessed with seducing him, controlling him, being controlled by him. What kind of power would it take to have the Sith Lord in his thrall? What would it take to have Vader on his knees?

Luke's cock grew hard against the table beneath him. As Yoda had taught him, he envisioned an actual link between he and his father. He could almost see it; the silken cord from Luke that changed and grew rougher in the airspace between them. At Vader's end it became rough-hewn links, a metallic chain that wrapped around the Dark Lord's waist. Luke gave the Force link a sharp mental tug and transmitted.

Every sensation, every feeling was clarified, intensified through the Force. Luke rocked from side to side, grunting with the pain/pleasure of his weight on his hard penis. The smooth buttocks swayed under the towel, enticing. Vader watched. His hands continued a smooth, even stroke on the metal.

Luke pushed upward with his arms. The Dark Lord noted admiringly their muscled curves and solidity. Luke's smooth chest rose up as he deliberately arched his back. The sweet curve of his body looked like a crescent moon in the sky. You could make me do this, he Sent to Vader. You could bend me backwards with the passion of your kisses, you could bend me forward to take me, you could fuck me, fuck me, fuck me... Vader's hand moved faster now.

The masseuse moved lower to the young man's trembling legs. Luke knew he could continue to Send with very little movement. The long pulling strokes of massage tugged his groin up and down the table; the warm friction a torment and delight. Feel me, Father, feel this now, feel me. He pressed his straining cock harder into the table as the masseuse eased his lower body back and forth.

Close now, very close.

Luke tugged the mental link tighter. He concentrated solely on the pleasure he felt, his cock even harder now, thinking of Vader, felt the cloth rubbing at the head of his penis, Vader, Father, closer now, Father, his testicles drawing up tighter, his cock, Vader take me, his cock, and the pleasure exploded through him and he sent his semen into the cloth. Father, you, this could be you, Father, I'm yours, take me, take me, I'm yours.

Vader wrenched at the metal railing until it twisted beneath his powerful fingers. The shriek of the bending metal filled the room. But he heard only the respirator on his heaving chest as it struggled to maintain his lungs- panting, gasping, shrieking himself. His hands tightened on the railing as he pitched forward, his knees gone weak at the shattering feelings. Luke! Luke! Luke! He cried out mentally, the ecstatic tone of the voice a balm to the boy's soul. 

**V: Diversions and Distractions**

The Dark Lord had been deeply shaken by the encounter at the massage tables. The link between them, forged by Luke, had been strong, incredibly strong- and so subtle that Vader was unable to break away from him during those final delicious seconds. Luke's power and gift for Sending was unforeseen and unwelcome in this context.

Really?

Luke needed entertainment and distraction, the Sith Lord decided. And that could be arranged without his involvement. An involvement that was intoxicating, passionate and treacherous...

Vader spoke to the courtesan he had brusquely summoned.

"See that he is--- entertained," Vader's deep voice spoke to Satisa. She was one of the most skilled courtesan's of the Imperial Palace- a fact that Vader was able to attest to personally- and her charm should prove sufficient to seduce Luke.

"I will do my best for him, my Lord." She eyed the tall warrior with curiosity and tried to hide her disappointment that the assignment was for another man. When the Sith Lord had summoned her, she had hoped...

"If Luke is sufficiently distracted, then perhaps I can find some way to reward you. Above your usual fee, of course." He never let her forget that she was a courtesan, though she had often hoped for more with the Force Master. Once he had taken her to his bed, no other lover could approach his heat.

"And what might that be?" she questioned him and leaned closer to the armored body. He idly stroked her throat and let his broad thumb rest atop her breasts. She inhaled sharply.

"I will entertain you myself one evening. Would that be sufficient incentive, Mistress Satisa?" He splayed his hand over her nipples, enjoying the lustful response he always received from her. An evening with Satisa would be reward for them both.

"Yes, my Lord." 

Vader watched Luke and Satisa in the gardens below. His blue eyes narrowed behind the breathmask. Damnit to Sithian hells, he cursed to himself. Luke was sending the brunette courtesan away. He had tugged her hands from his neck and pulled away from her kisses. The Dark Lord clenched his fists in anger.

Luke continued down the garden path to the small bridge over the dolfeen pond. He stood at the railing, idly watching the sensuous fish smooth their way through the warm water. Satisa had left him utterly cold, despite her sharp brown eyes, her mane of dark hair and her expert flirtations. The feel of her lips on his face had nearly made him flinch. I only want whom I cannot have. He pondered briefly, wondering if his father had deliberately sent her to him and decided, yes, he probably had. Perhaps out of self-defense, for Luke's near-constant onslaught of lustful Sendings must have had some effect on the older man.

Luke remembered Vader's hands stroking the metal railing above the massage tables, the metal twisted and shrieking at the end, and smiled. Some effect, indeed.

Where are you, Father of mine? Luke Sent out of sheer habit. Within moments the familiar hissing rasp of the respirator filtered through the shrubs around the pond. Luke turned and leaned back against the railings, watching.

The Dark Lord stood at the end of the bridge and waited himself. Blue eyes gazed into the black orbs of the breathmask, patient, placid, waiting. Luke stretched out his arms and splayed his slender body against the rough wood at his back. He deliberately widened his stance, knowing that the formal Jedi costume was snug against his body's hard planes. The Dark Lord stood rigid, unmoving, almost unreadable.

Luke sensed the tension in the man before him. The Sith Lord's broad shoulders were tightened beneath the black armor, his massive thighs tremored just slightly. Luke could Hear the quickened heartbeat within his father's wide chest; the sound sent a thrill of satisfaction through him. He leaned further back, arching his back partly over the rail, knowing Vader could clearly see the outline of his hard cock under the tight pants.

He smiled, beckoning without words, without the use of the Force. It was a challenge to himself, to see if he could lure his father to him with nothing but his body, no promise of mental sport, no more sparring. Vader wanted him badly, of that there was no doubt. But what game did he play that he voided consummation for so long?

Power. A god they both understood, both obeyed, both struggled to control.

Luke leaned back, stretching his neck, allowing it to bend gracefully, rising swan-white and vulnerable out of the black uniform.

The bridge vibrated under his heavy feet as the Dark Lord took a few steps forward. He raised one gauntlet-clad hand- in recognition or in honor, Luke wondered with a lazy smile.

Then, without warning, he was hurtling through the air, poised there, held suspended by an unseen hand. A moment later, he was dumped into the pond, spluttered and splashing in a totally undignified manner. He struggled to find bottom, to stand, but his boots sank into the sludge.

Furious, he wiped the water from his eyes and pushed his soaked hair off his face. He choked, spit out water and slimy stuff. Around him, the large orange and green fish poked curiously at his thighs.

"Shit!" he cursed without thought, slapping his palms on the water's surface to chase the dolfeen away. He heard a strange sound and looked up.

Vader was... laughing! At him. Luke glowered, hands balled into fists and shoved into either side of his waist. Bastard! But he dare not say it aloud or Send it. Lord Vader brooked no flagrant insults, not even from his own son.

He waited until he could speak without anger. "Why did you do that?" he asked as neutrally as he could, though he heard a fine tremor in his words.

"You required cooling off, son of mine." The words were uncharacteristically light... but very characteristically mocking. "And, perhaps, a chance to rethink your actions. You rejected my gift."

"I would never turn down your gift, My Lord Father. "Twas only the woman I did not want."

"But the woman is all I offer."

He couldn't resist a resentful glower as he slogged his way toward the shore. The bank was mud-slicked and slippery, and he refused to embarrass himself further so he used a Force-leap to pull himself out of the mire. Dripping, he walked up the grass toward the narrow path.

And stood before his father, knowing that he must look like a drowned womprat.

"I offer all that I have," he said quietly.

The gleaming helmet titled to one side. "And what is it you wish to received in return for this gift?"

Luke shook his head and smiled slightly. "It is a gift. I wish nothing in return... except that which you are willing to give."

Vader was quiet for a moment. "I do not give," he said finally. "I take."

So take, damnit! Luke thought irreverently. Fine with me! He nodded seriously. "I understand. I am here. I am my gift to you. Take me."

He spread his arms wide, palms upward, offering himself. His anger and humor both fled, sensing their arrival at a crossroad. The game could not remain in this stage forever. It was time to move to the next level.

His father's arm curved around his waist, effortlessly pulling him close as though he weighed no more than a child's doll. His body thrummed; without his permission, it moved and pressed itself against the hard armor of the Sith Lord. Heat sizzled through his blood as he arched back over the supporting arm.

"After dinner, come to my quarters."

He was released so suddenly that he staggered to keep from tumbling to the ground.

Wide-eyes, he watched his Lord Father stride from the gardens.

Finally. 

**VI: Endgame**

Luke gazed out the plasteel viewport of Vader's suite. A droid had offered him a drink and he accepted one gratefully, swallowed it in one gulp and took another.

Careful now, you don't want to be completely drunk, do you?

The window reflected a dark silhouette standing in the room behind him. Vader. Luke watched in the glass as his father walked slowly towards him, unarmored. Unmasked. He resisted the compelling urge to turn and face the warrior.

Let him come to me.

He sensed that Vader wanted to see him this way, first. As a shadowy distortion in the glass, as his Dark Force aura was a shadowed distortion of his true self. Luke waited.

Vader stopped, perhaps two steps away. His face was still unclear in the window.

"So, you've come to me, son of mine."

"And you've come to me, as well, my Lord Father." Luke touched the glass where the ghost of his father's face hovered. Don't you see how I want you? to please you? to share with you? Don't you see me?

Vader inhaled sharply. "Yes, I see." And he stepped forward to stand close behind Luke, his warmth sending a thrill of apprehensive desire through the boy. Luke closed his eyes and leaned back against the broad body.

Vader sighed and reached around Luke's narrow waist, to pull him closer still. He breathed in the delightful fragrance of his boy and nuzzled the golden hair on his scarred face. So soft! He began to press kisses on the boy's head, down his neck, to the left, then back along Luke's trembling right shoulder. The boy gasped and he stopped, stricken, and gazed into the boy's eyes through the window's reflection.

Oh no, he sees me. A tiny tremor of fear snaked along his belly.

"Yes, I see you." Luke answered, his voice husky, blue eyes dilated, sharpened. "Oh, I see you, Father." And then Luke turned in his arms and pressed kisses of his own onto Vader's face.

Giggling, the boy came alive in his arms, squirming to press against him, kissing wherever he could reach, and Vader felt the boy's cock harden against his thigh. How dare the boy giggle? did he think this was a game? A fierce, Dark thrill of desire swelled through him and he wanted to pull Luke down on the cold floor and dive into the warmth of his entrails. Vader bit down on Luke's shoulder and then, with one vicious swipe tore the boy's shirt from his body. He ran his huge hands over the boy's tender chest, tweaking the nipples, then bending to suckle them. Luke craved his touch, even this Dark touch. His body was afire, inflamed with mad desire.

Take me now, take me, oh father of mine, please, take me now. Vader waited no longer. He ripped away Luke's black uniform trousers as if they were no more than a spider's web. To the Sith's surprise, Luke reached down to open his father's pants, fumbling with the drawstring, cursing the knot until he released Vader's swollen cock. Oh, yes, there, oh father, please!

The rush of Force-enhanced desire made the Dark Lord stagger. He pushed Luke against the cold plasteel and spread the buttocks with one hand. With bent his knees, he pressed his cock to Luke's cleft. One upward thrust and he pierced the boy, sinking his cock deep inside Luke's tightness. He clenched his teeth and listened to the boy's scream as he buried himself to the hilt. Vader's hand reached around Luke's trembling belly and he set a rythmic parallel stroke up and down the boy's cock in time with his own sharp thrusts.

The boy screamed again.

Oh, gods, Luke, you are so tight, so sweet, oh Luke! Feel me fuck you now, son of mine, do you feel me now? His frenzy increased as their arousal grew. The plasteel window grew steamed with their gasping breaths, the floor beneath grew slippery with their sweat. Luke half-stood, half-climbed the cold window as he stayed deliciously impaled on the Dark Lord.

Luke's shoulder was bleeding where he had bitten it and Vader leaned down to suck the blood off the boy's golden skin. Luke's desire grew deeper, impossibly deeper. He closed his eyes and listened to the uneven rasping ofhis father's respirator, the slap of their flesh against the wall, the wet sound of his father's cock gliding in and out of him.

Now, now, please, father, now, now, NOW!

Luke's Sending made Vader go over the edge. He burst inside the boy, spurting a torrent of semen and for the first time in decades released his own passion with it. It was Vader who screamed now, incoherent with Dark pleasure. Luke gasped at the sensation and felt Vader thrust madly one last time, then go limp within and without him. They fell to the floor together. 

*****

Later, he pushed the boy onto his back. The sight of Luke's golden hair on the dark sheets gave him a thrill of lustful deja-vu. How many nights had he fantasized about this moment, this bed, this boy? He had dreamed of straddling the boy's muscular chest and then leaning over him to fill the soft mouth with hard cock.

Luke took it willingly, suckling like a babe, testing the contours of his father's penis with his tongue. Vader pushed until the glans touched the back of the boy's mouth, then slowly, agonizingly withdrew.

Luke looked up at him, past the bobbing cock. "More!" he groaned, half-command, half-plea.

"Address me properly, son of mine."

"My Lord Father," the boy gasped and reached to fondle the Sith's penis. The hand was slapped away. "Please, my Lord Vader. Please." Vader smiled savagely and then gave the boy what he wanted.

For Luke his world eclipsed to a narrow spectrum of sensation. The soft hiss of the sheets beneath their bodies, the raw thrusting in his mouth, the heat from his Lord's legs above him. Whenever he experimented with a swirl of his tongue or the stretching pull of his throat muscles Vader would groan- whether in frustration or ecstasy Luke couldn't tell. He clenched his hands against the straining buttocks and tugged the Sith Lord's essence even deeper.

At the end Vader was in a frenzy of motion above the boy. His long arms trembled as he held his immense weight over his son and his thick thighs began to shudder. Rivulets of sweat dropped onto Luke's chest. He looked down into Luke's beautiful face and the sight of those piercing blue eyes gazing at him with such adoration made him scream with pleasure.

Luke knew.

Oh Luke, what sweet agony you are. It was his last coherent thought.

Vader's orgasm spurted into the boy's throat. After several delicious shivers the youngster reached up and squeezed Vader's testes and gave one last, hard suck. The Dark Lord moaned in gratitude as he felt of his Life fluids leave his body.

Vader slumped sideways, his strong arms giving out. Luke smiled as he pushed the gasping man onto his back. He kissed his way up the wet belly, the heaving chest, past the respirator implant in his throat.

"I've wanted you this way for so long," the boy said as he kissed Vader's neck. "Thank you, my Lord, for letting me pleasure you. Thank you." The nuzzling continued, soft murmurs against his ravaged face, his son's voice a soothing lullaby as he fell into a sated sleep. 

Sleep well, sleek little boy of mine. And dream darkly. Vader Sent the thought softly, easing into his son's mind with more gentleness than he had entered his boy's body. They lay together, glistening with wetness, the air about them tanged with the musk of their sex and sweat. The boy fairly glowed against the dark, damp sheets.

Vader stroked back the fine golden hair to reveal Luke's clear forehead and enchanting sapphire eyes. Eyes that were half-closed and dazed with a sensual sparkle. The Sith marveled at the chiseled strength of the youngster's frame. Solid biceps eased into a fine chest, sprung deep and wide after countless hours of Jedi training and Imperial martial arts. I used to be a gorgeous man too... Before Obi-Wan. Before Palpatine and his infernal machinery. He wanted to lay his scarred head down and listen to his son's steady heartbeat. To listen to his own blood in the boy's plump veins.

He wanted to.

The gesture would somehow weaken him, the Dark Lord feared. It was barely safe to show sexual need, arousal, even satisfaction, but to reveal any emotional vulnerability... Too threatening for the Sithian's comfort. Distance. Aloofness. Cold power. Those were his tools, his methods of dominating others.

But he's your son.

He's my executioner. The thought came to him unbidden, riding the Force currents that swirled in the room around them. Was it true? Did the boy that lay beside him really have the power to kill him? He stroked the gleaming face again. He may have the power in the Force, but he doesn't have the will.

He wants me alive.

He wants me here, in this bed, our bed.

He wants me.

His satisfaction in that belief was undeniable. The boy's tender acceptance of his scars had sent spasms of near-happiness into him. He knew he was no longer a handsome man but the piercing ache of that pain has eased away. He had long grown accustomed to the professional demenaor of the courtesans who hid their disgust beneath vapid masks of feigned passion. But Luke had really looked at him, looked into his blue eyes, his heart. His soul. Did he have one left? And did he dare share it with another?

Was it safe to do so? Vader was never completely sure of how much the Emperor could see into his mind. Surely, if the Dark Ruler were aware of the treason he had voiced on Bespin, the Dark Lord would already be dead or in the dungeon's within the palace's entrails. Was Luke strong enough to block out the Emperor's probes? The Dark Lord thought he was, the boy had been strong enough to resist him, until the threat to his friends had been made.

As long as whatever Luke treasured was safe, then Luke was safe. Vader could control Imperial threats to the boy and his rebellious friends. And woe be to Palpatine, should he ever harm the Dark Lord again... Vader smiled. 

*****

Hours later, they lay on the bed together. "I like you bloody, Luke." Vader spoke softly, his own throat now-tender from his screams. He licked away the drops of blood from Luke's lower lip. Had the boy bitten himself or had he savaged the boy's mouth himself? Luke nodded, oozed closer still to Vader's body.

"And I like you hard." the impudent boy answered. Luke sighed and lay his head against Vader's scarred chest. He nuzzled at the Dark Lord's nipples, then began kissing lower, towards the belly. Vader pulled him up, shaking his head, no, no, not yet, we have to talk.

Vader talked. Luke listened.

And on that night, Palpatine's fate was decided. 

**End**


End file.
